


Cas Helped.

by OliviaRosen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Bobby Singer, Bad Parent John Winchester, Bobby Singer Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Boys Kissing, Cas has a fine ass, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Destiel - Freeform, Fix-It, Heaven, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Parental Bobby Singer, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Finale, Post-Season/Series Finale, Snogging, Spoilers for Carry On, shut up I'm still mad about the finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29277459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OliviaRosen/pseuds/OliviaRosen
Summary: This has been brewing in my head since December, but the combination of kids, summer holidays, life and all that stuff means it took a while to get it out. Initially I could just see Cas on a small hill beside the lake looking fine, and it grew from there.Yet another finale fix it.Yes I know I am overly fond of the dangling modifier and the ellipsis.This piece picks up in Heaven in the finale, and diverges from the original from the first line.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52





	Cas Helped.

Harvelle's Road House, Heaven. 

... “Cas helped”.  
Dean responded with a sly smile. Like a sneeze, the phrase resonated throughout his entire being, into every cell. Upon reflection, he thought he did a damn good job of containing the thrill generated by those two little words. 

If he helped, that must mean he got out. That must mean he’s here. That must mean there’s hope.  
Bobby’s eyebrows shot up to his old trucker cap. “It’s a big new world out there. You’ll see”. Unspoken were the words Dean needed the old man to say, but he heard them anyway. 

Dean raised his bottle to his lips, and then paused. He was glad it was Bobby here, and not John. He could never have been this brave with John, even in death.  
“So… where is he? Is he still helping, or…” The sentence trailed off, but Bobby knew. The old bastard always knew. That was one of a million things the brothers had loved about him. Rough as guts on the outside, but on the inside beat the fierce, loving heart of a father who knew his boys’ hearts and loved them beyond comprehension. He was ten times the father John was, and they all knew it.  
Dean sipped his beer as he waited for a response. His stomach churned at the prospects running through his mind, but there was a sense of comfort knowing that Bobby was on his side.  
“Oh wow. This tastes like the first beer I ever shared with my dad. It’s crap”. Poetic, indeed. The bad taste the beer left in his mouth made It seem that Jack the Almighty was not quite done teaching him some valuable lessons.  
Bobby sniggered, and then turned to look Dean in the eye.  
“He’s here. He’s been waiting. He’s going to be pissed that you’re here so soon, but I’m sure his feathery ass will get over it.” A beat, while Bobby appraised his boy. The thought of Dean finding happiness after the sacrifices he had made... Heaven was really living up to its name. 

“There’s a lake about two miles that way” he gestured. “He’s waiting for you”.  
Two miles. Dean’s mind raced through a thousand possibilities as he stood up. Could he run two miles? How long does it take to walk there? Are there cars in Heaven? What if he’s mad. What if he’s like REALLY pissed that I’m here a month after The Empty took him? Has it been a month here? What if it’s been millennia here? I should have said something to him. Perhaps I should have prayed to him, or to Jack…  
“Steady on, son” Bobby comforted, seeing the alarm on Dean’s face. “Lookit” as he gestured beyond the end of the porch. The sight of the Impala took his breath away. She was almost the same as he remembered her, but somehow, she glowed, faintly. Her tyres were shinier than he had ever seen, and the glass appeared clearer, more precise. It was as if life was a bright glaring day and now Dean was viewing things through polarised lenses. He chuckled to himself. “Hey Baby, how’s Uncle Bobby been treating you?”.  
“Idjit” was the response from the creaky old camping chair, as expected. 

Dean stepped off the porch and the dusty ground felt cool beneath his boots. Looking back at Bobby, he repeated: “A couple of miles that way, you say?”.  
“Go on boy, go get your angel”.  
Somehow the knowledge that Bobby knew; that Bobby understood, and that Bobby was actively gunning for him in this moment made Dean’s eyes fill with tears.  
“Don’t you crash that car now cos you’re too busy crying. This might be heaven, but she’ll still get dent”. Bobby’s attempt to cover up the crack in his gruff exterior failed miserably as Dean pulled him in for a hug. He may have spent his life in denial, and the last 12 years of it ignoring the thing he truly wanted, but the boy knew how to pour heart and soul into a hug. He held Bobby tight until the old man’s gravelly voice spoke up again.  
“Go on. Don’t make him wait any longer”.  
Dean pulled away and strode purposefully towards his other great love. The creak in the driver’s door made him smile as he muttered to himself: “kid remembered every damn thing”. 

Of course the engine gunned perfectly as the key turned. Of course the rumble of the V8 engine sounded just a little lower, a little growlier, a little more resonant. Of course the radio kicked off a classic tune as Dean put her into gear and spun off down the road. 

Whether it was Jack, or Cas, or one of the lesser angels they had on their books; the roads were magnificent. The corners were canted precisely, and it appeared that the Heavenly Impala had significantly better rear suspension than its Earthly equivalent. Whoever had calculated the camber of Heaven’s roads was surely an engineering genius. Or perhaps Heaven had seconded some of its more experienced motorists to the task. Whatever the case was, the two miles flew past. 

Despite the beauty and joy of the drive there, Dean’s nerves were frayed by the time he rounded the last turn, and the lake came into view. What was he going to say? How would he be greeted? He pulled into the carpark and sat for a minute, collecting his thoughts. This was the chance he had been waiting for since that day in the bunker. “Pull yourself together Winchester. This is Cas. You know he loves you, and you know you love him. Now go and get him”. 

The scene before Dean was nothing short of miraculous. Clear blue skies stretched down to the rugged peaks of a mountain range, dusted in snow. About a third of the way down, the snow made way for tall, elegant trees. Perhaps some sort of fir? Dean was reminded of a case years ago, in northern Washington, where the green of the forests was almost hypnotic.  
Around the sides of the lake, brown and green hills rolled down to the lake, meeting golden sand at the shore.  
The bottle green leaves of the alpine forest across the lake reached down to clear, sparkling waters, the far shore of which appeared to be several miles from where Dean climbed out of the car. 

In the grand scheme of things, 41 is still pretty young but given the less than gentle life Dean had lived, he had more than his fair share of aches and pains. It was pleasant to get out of the low car without the usual creaks in his knees and hips echoing the creak in the car door. 

At first the scene appeared empty. A beach-side bar off to the left of the carpark was boarded up, ageing kayaks and dinghies piled up on its front deck. Fishing rods poked out of the side half door, and the building’s wooden cladding was grey with age and sun. It looked like the kind of place where the happiest childhood memories were made. You know, for normal people, who had a childhood. 

Directly in front of the car park was the beach; golden sand stretching towards the water. To the right lay some small gentle mounds, about twice the height of a person. If they were at the sea, they would be called sand dunes, but here they were softer, more welcoming, grassier. The late afternoon sun made shadows among them, and it was from within one of these shadows that the vision appeared. 

Dean had stepped out on to the beach before he saw him, walking up to the top of the tallest mound. He stopped for a minute and caught his breath. 

Gone was the ugly trench coat, the dress shirt and the clumsily done tie. The clothes he’d worn on Earth had served to cover an unexpected figure.  
As Castiel reached the top of the little hill, he stopped and put his hand in his pockets, surveying the lake. He was barefoot and his dark blue jeans were just a fraction too long. His black t-shirt fit in all the right places, the v neck accentuating the promises that chest held. 

Dean found himself frozen to the spot, startled by the sight. God, he’s beautiful. How is it possible he’s here? How does this work? Is he human, or angel still? What the hell do I do? 

He didn’t have a moment to collect himself, however, before he heard the voice he had longed to hear again. The voice which last time he had heard, had stripped him down to his bones with its confession of utter adoration and devotion. That voice which still gave him chills as it resonated all the way to his toes.  
“Hello Dean. Come up here, the view is better”.  
He felt like a cartoon character being summoned as he inelegantly clambered up the mound. Surprisingly, Cas didn’t turn around to greet him. He simply repeated “Hello Dean”.  
He stood behind Cas, off to his left so he could see half the angel’s face. It appeared calm and relatively expressionless. 

The awkwardness Dean felt was at odds with the scenery. It was almost too much, so he channelled his inner naughty schoolboy and looked at the ground instead.  
Shit, where do I start? What do I say? This is your chance, don’t fuck it up.  
His eyes rested on Castiel’s feet for a moment, and then wandered northwards. What was it about Heaven that stripped away one’s filters? One’s internal defence mechanisms? Shocking himself, Dean’s next thought was focused on how the angel was wearing the hell out of those blue jeans. His gaze trailing upwards, he admired the shape of Cas’ legs and further up still… that ass. How on earth has he managed to hide that heavenly ass all this time? Dean made himself blush at the thoughts that ass prompted. Further up still, the black t shirt curved and stretched over a surprisingly muscular back and those shoulders… Dean stopped to catch his breath. The push of his hands deep into his pockets caused Cas’ arm muscles to flex, and Dean found himself wanting to touch the angel’s triceps, to feel if they were really carved from wood as they appeared to be. Finally, Dean allowed himself to gaze upon the face. That face that wept for him, that fell for him, that died for him. The gentle wrinkles around his eyes were engaged as Cas squinted into the bright afternoon sun. The bed hair was a little longer and a little messier than Dean remembered, and a few grey hairs at the temple spoke of the angel’s enduring humanity. Dean noticed his facial expression had changed. Cas held a sad smile on his face which, not for the first time, Dean couldn’t read. Was he glad to see him? Was he mad? Was he going to reject him? Was it just too late for Dean? 

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, wondering what would come out.  
“Cas, um, hi. I’m sorry.”  
The angel’s shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly but his gaze remained on the horizon.  
“Sorry for what, Dean? Sorry for turning up here so soon? Sorry for squandering your twilight years on carelessness? Sorry for being so reckless that you ended up dead on a piece of rebar?” There was the faintest suggestion of steel in Cas’ voice in the last few words as he turned his head slightly towards Dean. 

“Hey, I didn’t…” but Cas was right.  
Dean was careless. He was careless because he no longer wanted to fight. He made his brother stay and watch him die instead of going for help, because he was just so very tired. Tired in his bones, in his marrow, in his heart and in his soul.  
In this place, he had to be honest. 

“Cas I didn’t want to live anymore” This is it, this is your chance. For Jack’s sake, you know he loves you. He flat out told you, and it killed him. He gave his life for you, the least you can do it pony up and tell the truth. 

“Not without you” He’s only gone and done it. Its out there now, it can’t come back. 

After a pause that felt like a million years, Cas let out a breath and turned to Dean. Perhaps it was the Heavenly setting, but his eyes had never been bluer. They tore right through to Dean’s soul and he let out the smallest of gasps. 

“You could have had another 40 years. You could have settled down, had a family, got a normal job. Done normal human things”.  
Dean took a step closer, putting him close enough to reach out and touch him.  
“Cas, that was never the life for me, and you know it. You knew what I was made of. You knew how my life began; you must have known how it was going to end”.  
Cas took his hands out of his pockets. They hung by his side but without a trace of the awkwardness that characterised his time on Earth. The movement caused the muscles below his neck to flex, momentarily distracting Dean from drowning in his eyes. 

“I just wanted you to be happy, Dean.” Even though it was technically no longer beating, Dean felt his heart crack a little. This was the angel who defied Heaven, time after time, for him. God himself couldn’t control Castiel’s love for his human charge, and now all the angel wanted was for him to be happy. 

“You’re an idiot”. Dean took another step closer, his right hand reaching for Castiel’s left one, as if of its own accord.  
Whether it was the unexpected physical contact or the insult directed at him, it was Cas’s turn to let out a little gasp. He cocked his head to one side in the way only he could. Dean melted a little as he took a deep breath.  
Here goes nothing.  
He threaded his fingers between Cas’ so their palms were facing each other and looked him in the eye.  
“You raised me from hell. You rebuilt me, body and soul. You heard my prayers. You know me inside out, and yet you go and say that the one thing you want, you can’t have. If you hadn’t made that deal, we could be living the dream.”  
Cas’ eyes filled with tears as Dean continued.  
“We could have lived out our days in the bunker, or some old fixer-upper cabin in the woods. Hunting when needed, training young hunters when we got too old. Something like that. You knew that I loved you, just as much as you know my name. What on earth made you think that you couldn’t have what you wanted?” 

“Because sometimes love isn’t enough, Dean. I made a deal to save my son’s life. I put his life and his happiness ahead of my own. And ahead of yours. And I would do it again”.  
The tears in Dean’s eyes mirrored those of Cas.

“Dammit Cas. We need to work on our communication.” A sad little laugh as he gestured within the space between them. “What you did for Jack… It was the only option you had. You gave your life for him. Do you know how many times I did that for Sammy? What I’m mad about is that you didn’t tell me. What you did… I would have done the same. What I’m saying is that you should have come to me. We would have found a way to get you out of it. There’s always a way.”  
“Dean, I couldn’t risk Jack, or you. It was too dangerous”. 

The noise that escaped Dean’s mouth was almost a scoff.  
“Dangerous? Cas. Come on. How many times have we stopped an apocalypse? How many times have we defeated an angel of God, or the Devil himself? Danger doesn’t even come into it…” he paused as if collecting his thoughts and squeezed Cas’ hand.  
“You should have let me help. We could have fixed it, and then none of this would have happened”.  
“Dean I… I wanted to protect you. Its my job”. His eyes dropped to the ground, almost in shame.  
Without a trace of malice or ill-feeling, Dean replied. “Well you can consider yourself relieved of that position. I died, and now we’re here. You’ve got to trust me from now on ok?”. He took his left hand and gently placed it on Cas’ chin, lifting his face back up again. Once their eyes were on each other again, the hand moved slightly. Fingers traced the line of the angel’s jaw before coming to rest on his neck, thumb stroking his cheek from lip to ear. Dean’s heart beat triple time at the thrill of finally touching that face. And those eyes, those impossibly bluer than blue eyes. A man could live a thousand lifetimes before he saw something so beautiful. A moment passed and he felt the fingers on his right hand become untangled as Cas mirrored his gesture and cradled Dean’s face as if it was precious porcelain. Seconds or years flew by as the two of them stood there, drinking each other in. 

It was Cas who finally broke the silence. “I trust you Dean. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, and I’m sorry you died so young. But I would be lying if I said I was sorry you were here with me. I’m not sorry about that”.  
Dean’s wry smile caused Cas’ eyes to wander down to his lips. “I trust you too. Its ok now”.  
“No, its not ok now” replied Cas.  
Dean felt a brief moment of terror at the angel’s response. Wait, how it is not ok now? I thought we were all cool, what have I done wrong? His hand flew from Cas’ face and stopped, fingers curled, in the air between them.  
The moment of terror was short-lived however, as he saw Cas’ lips erupt into his own wry smile. Light danced in Cas’ eyes as his gaze swept over Dean’s face.  
“Oh yeah? What could an angel of the Lord possibly need now?”  
“This.”  
Time slowed down as Cas took Dean’s face in both hands. A beat, and then the angel leaned in and kissed him. Dean could have sworn he heard the crackle of electricity as their lips met, his parting without hesitation to meet the other. 

All his life Dean had heard stupid romantic stories about first kisses. Kisses which rendered the participants speechless, or weak-kneed, or soft in the head. He had always found those stories to be unrealistic, made of saccharine Hollywood lies. A kiss was just a kiss, right? Upon reflection, he thought how wrong he had been. No one in the history of the world had been kissed like he was that first time by his angel. 

His hands flew to Castiel’s waist, holding on as if his life depended on it. After a few seconds he found himself with his arms wrapped around that waist, as he was no longer able to stand of his own volition. Cas’ kiss was simultaneously soft and fierce; loving and desperate; sacred and filthy. Dean’s hands travelled up the angel’s back, grasping at the back of his shoulders as twelve years of longing was released. Exploring each other’s mouths was like coming home, while Dean’s hands scrambled for purchase on Cas’ shirt and shoulders. They kissed for eons, before finally coming up for air. 

Unable to open his eyes, Dean pressed their foreheads together and caught his breath before whispering.  
“Holy shit, Cas. I mean, wow”.  
Cas smiled and chuckled. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time”.  
Feeling sassy, Dean opened his eyes and laughed “Was it worth the wait?”  
Cas took him by the shoulders, his face deadly serious all of a sudden.  
“Dean Winchester, I died for you. I defied Heaven, multiple times. I rebuilt you from the depths of Hell, I have healed you, and saved your life more times that you can count. I have stood with you against my father, my brothers, and my sisters, and you ask me if a kiss was worth the wait? Let me tell you this: I would do it all again”. His voice dropped to almost a whisper at the last phrase. 

A wave of shame, regret, frustration, and sadness washed over Dean as he thought of the countless missed opportunities that had passed them by on Earth.  
“Cas, I am so sorry. We could have had a life on Earth. Together.”  
“Dean, let’s not focus on what we could have had. We’ll drive ourselves insane.”  
Dean was surprised at the honesty that came out of his mouth next.  
“I just… what did I do to deserve you. You’re a literal angel, and I… well, I’m just a hunter who got himself killed”.  
Cas’ hand dropped from Dean’s shoulders down to his hands, holding them tenderly.  
“What did you say before about stopping an apocalypse? About defeating God? You saved the world. A lot. You deserve happiness, and love. You were a poor motherless child who was forced to raise your own brother when you were still a baby yourself. Your father was, and excuse me for my bluntness, an abusive and neglectful parent, yet look at what you did. Dean, Jack and I designed this Heaven with you in mind. You deserve an eternity in paradise for the things you did”. 

Tears filled Dean’s eyes as Cas’ words flushed away the shame and regret.  
“Will you stay with me?” he almost pleaded.  
Cas’ smile shone out of his face as he wrapped his arms around Dean.  
“I have to”.  
A moment, then Dean pulled back, looking Cas in the face curiously.  
“What do you mean, you have to?”.  
Cas turned around to face the lake, so that Dean stood behind him. Dean put his arms around the angel’s waist again and pressed his lips to his shoulder. With one hand on Dean’s, Cas pointed off to the left side of the lake, beyond the car-park and the beach-side bar, as he began to speak.  
“See that road, coming up there from the beach? Through those trees? Can you see there’s a clearing there? On that second hill back from the car-park. There’s a place for you. A house. A cabin, really. It’s not much, but it’s warm and sunny, and there’s room for guests. Its your house Dean, if you want it. And that beach-side bar? Its yours. I thought we could tidy it up a bit, serve some people some drinks, maybe cook a burger or two…”.  
Dean lifted his lips from Cas’ shoulder. “Damn, you thought of everything. I love it. But what do you mean you have to stay with me?”  
“Dean, I’m an angel, remember? I’m a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent. Well, I was. Now I’m just me, but still. I don’t get a house. I have a job to do here, but Jack thought that I could just stay with you. I think he was playing matchmaker”.  
With a chuckle, Dean moved his head slightly. Peppering soft kisses across the back of Cas’ neck he muttered: “Think you might be invited to come and stay, do you?”  
Cas drew his breath in sharply as the kisses increased in vigour. “An angel can hope”. A brief pause in kisses as Dean responded. “So, there’s a bed in this cabin, is there?”  
“Of course Dean. It might be Heaven, but a man needs his sleep”. Dean could hear the smile in Cas’ voice.  
With a soft nip, he completed his exploration of Cas’ neck. He released his arms and spun him around so they were facing each other again.  
In one swift movement, Dean’s arms were around Cas, lifting him off the ground. One hand was under the angel’s leg while the other held up that spectacular ass.  
“Castiel, if you think you are going to get to sleep any time soon, you are sorely mistaken. I am going to take you to our new house now, and we are going to inspect that bed. Many times. Is that acceptable to you?”  
Cas took Dean’s face in his hands once again, reverently. “Yes. Yes, I like that idea very much. Yes please”.  
Dean dropped him back on his feet, and this time it was his turn to initiate a kiss. Impossibly, it was charged with as much electricity as the first. Dean felt himself become light-headed as small noises escaped Cas’ mouth. 

Another millennia passed before Cas broke the kiss. Gasping for breath, he opened his eyes to gaze upon Dean’s kiss-swollen lips.  
“Let’s go Dean. We haven’t much time”. Cas took Dean’s hand as if to walk back down to the car-park.  
Confused, Dean shook his head as if to clear his lust-drunk thoughts.  
“What do you mean, I thought we had forever?”  
“Sorry. I’m not thinking straight. I mean to say we don’t have much time before Sam arrives.”  
Dean felt a wave of nausea overcome him at the thought of his beloved brother’s early demise.  
“Cas, what the hell? I’ve been gone a day! What’s happened to Sam?”  
“Oh, Dean. I should have explained that too. I’m so sorry”. Cas looked genuinely upset at his apparent inability to make himself clear. Turning to Dean, he took both hands again, caressing them with his thumb.  
“I got a bit distracted there, with the kissing. I apologise. It might be a day here, but on Earth, for the living, about 45 years have passed. The day after tomorrow, Sam will die of old age, with his beloved son by his side. He has had a wonderful life. He was married, he was happy, and he will be here soon”.  
“Oh thank God. I mean, Jack.” Dean breathed a sigh of relief that felt like a hurricane. 

Giddy as a schoolgirl again, he released one hand from the angel’s grasp and turned towards the car, pulling Cas along with the other.  
“Come on then, angel. Let’s go and check out this house of ours”. 

Cas paused, that sly smile spreading all the way up to one arched eyebrow.  
“Are we going to inspect the bed, Dean?”  
Dean stopped in his tracks and turned to face him. His eyes raked over the angel’s body with unprecedented hunger.  
“I thought we could, yes. Can we go now, please, before I tear that damn shirt off you right here on the beach?”  
With a look of deliberate torture on his face, Cas remained in place.  
“Well, I was just wondering if… once we’ve inspected the bed, there’s a couch that we could inspect as well”.  
“Cas, if I wasn’t already dead, I would say you’re killing me right now”.  
“And then there’s the kitchen counter, and the shower, and a lovely outdoor furniture setting on the deck…”.  
The angel’s teasing was cut short by a fierce and passionate kiss which would have floored a lesser man.  
“Castiel. Angel. Of Thursday. Get your fine ass. Into that car. Right. Now”.

Unable to maintain the pretence, Cas relented his teasing. He untangled his hands from the man’s hair and took his hand again. Together, the two of them made their way towards the carpark, and hence to their new home. 

Like Bobby had predicted, Heaven really lived up to its name that day, and the day after.  
Upon reflection, Dean would have considered that first day to be the very definition of heavenly as he and Cas explored each other and the immense possibilities of their new dynamic. However, as the days became years, and then decades, the two of them well and truly defined what it means to experience Heaven.

**Author's Note:**

> I was tempted to name this "Surely Misha would have done 2 weeks quarantine for proper closure". Other titles were "Misha ships this shit", "Fuck you COVID", or simply that tweet that went out a while ago which said "When I die I want the Supernatural writers to lower me into my grave so they can let me down one last time". 
> 
> Ten points for the blink-and-you'll-miss-it Buffy reference. 
> 
> I'm still not in love with the ending, but it was in very real danger of morphing into another whole philosophical discussion about sexuality and religion and I had to make lunch for my kids. I know that syntactically it still needs work, apologies for the clunkiness.


End file.
